Une Petit Morte
by The Satyricon
Summary: It is Harley Quinn's First Time... and the Joker is involved in the act! The title is French for A Little Death...Second Story in the JHQ series by The Satyr Icon...Be kind, review kindly!


**Title:** Une Petite Mort

**Author:** The Satyr Icon

**Permission to Archive:** You only have to ask

**Category:** J/HQ...Romance

**Genre:** Hetro

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** It's Harley's First Time...

**Keywords: **Joker / Harley Quinn

**Spoilers: **None, set after "Mad Love"

**Word Count:** 1351

**Disclaimer:** The Joker and Harley Quinn are property of DC Comics; I am just writing for fun, and if I owned them, all would be good and clean in the World.

**Author Notes: **This is My second foray into My favorite insane couple's lives. Be kind to review, review kindly.

**Une Petite Mort**

Harley Quinn was _soooooo_ nervous. There was a tremor in her legs and shakiness in her hands. With what she did in the past, she knew she wasn't good girl, but she wasn't a bad one either. She shyly looked over her shoulder. At him, and saw his eyes travel up her legs, her back, and finally met hers.

"Welllllllllllllllll?" The Joker's grin widened. Then his grin fell to a exaggerated frown, and he batted his eyelashes. "Ya don't disappoint Me, do ya?"

"Ohhhh no, Puddin'" She said, and smiled wide, showing off pearly whites, white globes on her cheeks, blue eyes sparkling. "I'd never wanna do that!"

"Welllllllllllllllllll good!" The corners of his lips sprang up to their natural place, higher than humanly possible. He gave her a quick pat on the butt, and kept his hand on the curve of ass, a reminder of what they had talked about earlier. "Because...I'd hate to think what would happen to us... if...you...did."

The bottle blond looked at him, saw the gleam, the need, in his eye, and she got dizzy; She knew that look, from boys in school and the university, from the neighborhoods, from almost every single male in her life. But **HIS** look, his look saw her for who she was, really, not what she was, really. He saw her completely, past her tits and ass, and into her mind. He unleashed her and that provoked a devotion she thought she could never give anyone.

One night, on a rooftop, in the pale moonlight, while he danced with her to music only he could hear, he whispered what he'd love for her to do...for him. In the romance of the moment she whispered, "Yes, Baby...whenevah you want!" She always wanted to try it...and now she wanted to please him. But now...

"Is it gonna hurt, Mistah J?" Harley's bottom lip trembled. She was a doctor; she knew it could hurt, and The Joker wasn't the most gentlest of lovers. Harley did like it rough, but with her Puddin'...there was no safeword.

"Hurt? Of course it will!" The Joker said, eyes alive. "Why _else _would I want to do it? The silly look of anguish...the hilarity of suffering...it makes me..."

He tossed his head back and he roared with laughter, his hands leaving her butt and hip to hold his stomach. Harley watched him shake, watch him giggle. He caught his breath and looked at her, and the look on her white face was one of trepidation, half a smile, shoulders hunched, and the poms on her hood drooped lopsided.

"Ohhh... you're a sight to sore eyes!" He busted up, doubling over, laughing again at her, at his pun.

"Mistahhhhhhhh J!" Harley looked away and slumped over. "I...just never done THAT before..."

The Thin Prince of Crime's body suddenly became rigid, and he towered over his girl. His chin slid in the nook between his thumb and fingers. He was re-evaluating her. "Neverrrrrrrrrrr?"

"No." Harley's voice was quiet, a little ashamed. She knew he was scrutinizing her. She knew that he was thinking her...unworthy.

"Neva-everrrrrr?" His voice was incredulous. He looked her over; with a body like hers...she didn't? "Harley...Sweetums...never...with any of those... other...guys?" He scrunched his nose at the thought of HIS Harley's flesh touching some man; his list of people to kill grew longer. "Not once?"

"Nuh...Uh," she whispered. Her heart fluttered, and her legs were ready to give out. She pressed against him. "I wanted to do it...with them...but...but..."

"Your first time should be special," He leaned in, and cooed in her ear. She nodded.

"Not some messy affair in the back of car," he continued, his hands massaging her shoulders, her arms. "All the groping and flailing around. Sooooooo uncouth."

"Yeah," she whispered. "You know me so well, Mistah J."

"Like minds," He whispered, the low timbre of his voice thrilling her, the words reverberating in her. "I am honored to be your first time,"

"Really, Puddin'?" She smiled.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" He murmured, and she shook her head slowly, squirming. "And...now is that time, Harlikins. Make Daddy proud."

Harley nodded; really there wasn't anything else she could do. She wanted to, but she was afraid. But she was with The Boss now, and what he wanted, well...she wanted too! 'Yes, I'll do it, and so much more, for My Puddin',' she thought. 'Anything!' She nodded faster and spread her legs wide, and braced herself.

**"GIVE IT TO ME, PAPA !" **

**"THAT'S THE SPIRIT !" **

The Joker gave it to Harley and laughed, that special laugh of approval that was always music to her ears...

- - - - - - - - - - -

Gotham Police Lieutenant Jim Gordon stood, nervous, cigarette in the crook of his mouth, looking around.

"Well?"

Gordon jumped and the cigarette fell to the floor. His well-worn shoe snuffed out the just-lit stick. He looked over his shoulder. He could never hear him coming. Or going. But the voice was brusque, almost as brusque as the owner: The Batman.

"The Joker." The grizzled cop pushed his glasses back up his nose. "The surveillance tape caught every sick detail."

The Batman leaned in and watched Gordon press the play button. The dark screen on the monitor flickered on and images moved in black and gray.

"But I don't know the girl in the harlequin get-up," Gordon said, pressing his chest for his pack of cigs. 'Damn, that was the last one.'

"Harleen Quinzel." Batman stood straight and crossed his arms. Gordon knew her from Arkham Asylum. "Now calling herself Harley Quinn."

"Partner like Robin?"

"Lover. Unlike Robin."

"The city are getting crazier everyday."

The Batman agreed, but didn't nod. His city was getting crazier, with more criminals appearing. First was this madman and then others taking the smiling sadist's cue, being a threat with a theme. The Batman scowled; he didn't need nemesis to have playmate.

"If you don't mind, I saw it already, and I don't want to be sick again."

The Dark Knight of the City waved him off, and stared at the screen:

The Joker behind Quinn.

The sick smiles.

The way they positioned themselves.

The Batman suddenly understood Gordon's point of view. He grit his teeth and read her black lips, read the madman's gray lips, and saw maniac give her what she wanted, watched her give him what he desired in his cold heart:

The Joker slammed his big thick over sized pistol into Harley's hot little hands. A quick look of shock and discomfort washed over her face, but she took it all, gripping it and squeezed the trigger, and the hostage's head was obliterated. The Skinny Sadist held Harley up when the recoil bounced her back into him, and she shot again and again and again, rounds splattering blood against the walls, until The Joker's rod was all spent. Then she swooned. He picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, swatted her ass, gripped the cheek, and The Batman could hear in his head the tune the madman silently sang while he walked off the screen, "Zippity Doo Dah, Zippity Day, My Oh My, Harley Made My Day."

The Batman shut off the tape and turned to Gordon.

"How many deaths?"

"Multiples. Children too."

"Littles ones?" The Batman shook his head; Quinzel was a promising psychologist, now she was a certified psycho.

"She never did anything like this," Gordon said, looking through a folder Detective Montoya handed him. She stood by him, looking at The Batman. So unlike her partner, the sloppy guy walking up to the group.

"It was her first time," The Batman growled.

"She ain't a virgin no more," Detective First Class Bullock quipped and took a bite of his donut. Gordon and Montoya both looked at him with disdain. "What?" He mumbled and sipped his coffee. Gotham's Finest looked back to where Gotham's Guardian was standing.

But like Harley's innocence, The Batman was gone.

** The End **


End file.
